


an endless symphony of them

by wolfchasing



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Blow Jobs, Emotions, M/M, Oral Sex, So many emotions, post-Saints of Imperfection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 12:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18756859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfchasing/pseuds/wolfchasing
Summary: Nevertheless, it still hurts Paul to wake up and be alone. It still feels like it isn’t real, that the events of the last few weeks hadn’t even happened.He had held Hugh’s body. Had arranged the funeral. Had inscribed Hugh’s name on the memorial for Starfleet personnel lost in the Klingon war. Had interred his ashes in a small locket that he wore around his neck.Reconciling that tangible reminder that Hugh’s body was gone with the sheer indisputable proof that Hugh himself was back had been hard for Paul. And so, every time he wakes up alone, he has to fight down the burbling panic that rises in his body and tells himself, it’s real.--emotions nd porn lmao





	an endless symphony of them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aphelyon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aphelyon/gifts).



> Hey folks! Just a note - I began to write this immediately after Saints of Imperfection was released, but I was actually studying abroad in Germany and didn't have time to finish it then, so that's why it doesn't conform to the rest of the Culmets plot in S2. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this!! If you so like, you can probably imagine this happening *after* the conclusion of S2.

He wakes in the middle of the night, panicking. The bed next to him is empty, and to Paul, it feels too much like those endless, torturous months where he’d been without Hugh.

It’s been normal to wake up in these last few weeks without Hugh being present – the trauma of the months – years? – Hugh spent in the network, literally fighting for his life, had been a lot. Paul understood that, he knew it was hard for Hugh to adjust to his return to life, his return to a life free from the trauma of survival was a struggle. Going from barely eating, sleeping, not seeing another soul, to the constant auditory and visual onslaught of the Discovery and the pure press of humanity aboard the ship had proven to be overwhelming for Hugh.

Nevertheless, it still hurts Paul to wake up and be alone. It still feels like it isn’t real, that the events of the last few weeks hadn’t even happened.

He had held Hugh’s body. Had arranged the funeral. Had inscribed Hugh’s name on the memorial for Starfleet personnel lost in the Klingon war. Had interred his ashes in a small locket that he wore around his neck.

Reconciling that tangible reminder that Hugh’s body was _gone_ with the sheer indisputable proof that Hugh himself was _back_ had been hard for Paul. And so, every time he wakes up alone, he has to fight down the burbling panic that rises in his body and tell himself, _it’s real._

He hasn’t told Hugh this – of course he hasn’t. Hugh’s got enough on his plate to be dealing with without having to also take Paul’s bullshit into account. That’s why Paul’s got a therapist on the ship now, anyway.

But, still. It hurts. Rolling over and instinctually reaching out to touch Hugh only to encounter cold bed linens is rough.

Paul sits up in the bed, fighting the pang in his heart at the empty space, and rolls over to place his bare feet on the cold, metallic floor in his quarters. Their quarters. That’s another thing he’s had to get used to again.

He casts his eyes over towards their open closet, searching for one particular item of clothing, and finding it missing, just as he had expected. He stands and walks over, spotting something glowing from the table.

There’s a scrawled note on one of the PADDs – shaky and jittery, a far cry from the elegant script that Hugh had before – well, before. A new body meant he had to develop new fine motor skills.

 _Paul,_ it reads in crooked, broken letters. _Gone to the pools._

There’s no signature - there doesn’t need to be one - but this is new: Hugh hadn’t bothered to leave a note the last few times he’d been to the pools, and the implied invitation within the note makes Paul’s heart skip a beat.

He rifles in the cupboard for a moment to fish out a pair of old shorts, and leaves his quarters, clad only in a pair of loose, cotton pyjama pants. The chill of the Discovery’s halls is a shock to his system, the cold air biting at his bare skin and raising gooseflesh on his arms, but it’s the dying hours of gamma shift, and there’s no one else awake in their section of the ship.

Hugh had been spending a lot of time in the recreational pools on their level of the ship. Even before, Hugh had been a complete water baby, always spending a lot of time at the pools, but this was somewhat unprecedented, and Paul still didn’t know why. He was giving Hugh the space to come to him in his own time, and was willing to wait forever, if that’s what Hugh wanted.

 _“Voice print required for entry at request of occupant,”_ the computer chimes as Paul approaches the entrance to the pools, which makes him raise his eyebrows in curiosity.

“Lieutenant Commander Paul Stamets,” he says, his voice lilting lightly in a question that he knows the computer wouldn’t be able to answer: why does Hugh want privacy? The door slides open and he is faced with the inspiring sight of the Discovery’s recreational pools.

It’s not an enormous room by any means, but it is gorgeous. It’s light and airy, walls painted a soft, bright periwinkle blue, with a skylight that looks straight up into the twisted colours of warp speed as they pass by endless stars and nebulas. There’s just one large circular pool, tiled with a deep, turquoise ceramic, surrounded by several much smaller pools of varying temperatures. It’s usually a very popular place for crew to spend their free time, but at this time of the ‘night’, it’s completely empty, except for one person.

It’s in the large central pool where Paul sees Hugh. He’s lying on his back, floating peacefully beneath the skylight. From his vantage point at the door, Paul can see that Hugh’s eyes are open, and for a moment, the reflection of the shining blue of warp speed makes it look like there’s a milky film covering the deep, endless brown eyes that Paul loves so much. His breath catches in his chest and he inhales sharply, the sound bouncing off the water and echoing around the room in a way that seems almost unnatural.

He can see the reason as to why Hugh locked the door – he’s completely nude. Hugh never lost any of the impressive muscle mass that he had been so diligent in maintaining before everything had happened, and now the water rests over his chest and his arms, adding a bright, glossy shine to his body.

He looks so peaceful – more peaceful than he had been at any point in the last few weeks. It’s more of Hugh than Paul has seen since the cocoon dissolved to reveal Hugh’s naked form.

He must have been standing there for minutes on end, just drinking in the sight of Hugh looking so relaxed. It’s only when Hugh finally shifts, disturbing the water and causing ripples to surge to the edges, does Paul move. He takes a couple of halting steps towards the edge of the pool, watching as Hugh moves his body back beneath the surface so he’s just treading water.

Hugh’s smiling, but it’s a far cry from the joyful toothy smile that he used to flash in Paul’s direction. It’s close-mouthed and small, but very sweet. There’s a hint of tension at the corners of Hugh’s eyes, turning his laugh lines into crow’s feet.

As Paul gets closer, Hugh begins to swim gently towards the edge, never kicking up any water. It’s eerie and silent, but not once do Paul’s eyes stray from Hugh’s.

They reach the edge at the same time. Paul sits down, not bothering to change out of his pyjama pants as he dangles his legs in the water. Hugh simultaneously stands in the shallows, resting his elbows on the edge of the pool next to Paul, still smiling, but now Paul can see the softness that he so fell in love with.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Paul whispers, unwilling to shatter the silence completely. “Why do you keep coming here?” The second question slips out against his power, and for a moment, he thinks he’s fucked up, that he’s pushing too hard, but then Hugh exhales, moving his hand to grip Paul’s calf where it dangles in the water.

“I like the water,” Hugh says simply, at normal volume, but Paul can hear the tremble in his voice that has been ever-present for the last few weeks. “When I move around in the water, I feel light. Like I’m back in _my_ body, like I’m not having to struggle to adjust with every step.”

Hugh takes a step back into the water without letting go of Paul’s calf, and Paul can feel the implied ‘follow me’ gesture in the movement. Without fanfare, Paul slips into the water, pyjama pants and all, and Hugh’s hand runs up the length of his body to find Paul’s hand, beginning to tug him towards some of the submerged ledges at along the side of the pool.

“This body isn’t mine,” Hugh says, and there’s frustration in his tone as they settle on the ledge, a distance between them that’s likely only a few inches, but feels like miles. “It’s not lived in. It doesn’t have the same scars or sensations or anything. Nothing feels _normal,_ Paul. It’s my form, and it looks like me, but it doesn’t _feel_ like me.”

Paul holds on tighter, and all he wants to do is bring Hugh’s hand to his to kiss it, but this is the most that Hugh’s spoken in a week, and he is loathe to interrupt for any reason.

He watches Hugh run his other hand down the arm and hand that Paul’s holding. “Right here,” Hugh says, circling his fingers around a spot on the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger, and Paul, more familiar with the ins and outs of Hugh’s body than his own, knows immediately what he’s referring to. “I was being an idiot in med school – messing around with the scalpels, trying to show off for the cute instructor, wanting them to notice me, and I sliced right through the skin and muscle right here.” Paul begins to rub his thumb over the skin there, moving in tandem with Hugh’s fingers as they absently trace over his hand. “The instructor repaired the muscle and skin immediately, but I asked them to leave to leave me a scar, so I could remind myself what could happen if I didn’t take my job one hundred percent seriously.” Hugh raises his hand – and Paul’s – to eye level, to emphasise the point. “That scar was just one part of me, Paul. But it _was_ me. And it’s gone.” There’s an angry note in Hugh’s voice. “And now I can’t even remember what it felt like, Paul.”

Hugh looks up from where he’s been staring at where their hands are connected, and Paul follows the movement, allowing himself to stare straight into Hugh’s tear-filled eyes. “I don’t feel _anything_ the same anymore, Paul. And I’m worried that it…”

Paul gulps, his mouth suddenly dry. His heart is beating in his throat, because he knows what Hugh’s about to say.

“I’m worried that _you_ won’t feel the same to me.”

It’s like a kick in the chest, hearing those words from Hugh’s mouth. It’s been a constant fear – that since returning, Hugh wouldn’t want him anymore – that too much had changed, and that nothing would be the same for them.

Paul had known rationally that of course, nothing would _ever_ be the same again, but that hadn’t stopped him from hoping that one day, everything would just slot back into place and they’d pick up right where they left off. He knew that it wouldn’t be like that, but still, his heart yearned for it.

Hearing such a final statement from Hugh shatters any remaining hope that lives in Paul’s heart – but, simultaneously, it ignites a new curiosity.

“Can I come closer, Hugh? Can I hold you?” Paul asks, and there’s a beat where Hugh hesitates. Finally, Hugh nods his assent, and Paul shifts along the ledge so that their legs are pressed together. Paul’s hand snakes behind Hugh’s back, brushing along ever so slightly, to come to rest on his hip. Paul feels Hugh shiver slightly beneath him as he reacts to the sensation against his new, sensitive nerves. His other hand comes up to rest on Hugh’s chest.

“Tell me what you need, Hugh,” he says, looking directly into Hugh’s eyes, and beneath his hand, he can feel Hugh’s heart jump. “You’re right – this body hasn’t had your experiences and doesn’t have the same reaction to sensations you’ve known your whole life.” One of Hugh’s hands comes up to hold Paul’s in place, gripping it fiercely. “We still don’t know if May got everything right.” He swoops in quickly to place a small kiss on Hugh’s cheek. “I might feel different. I might do things that you used to like that you don’t enjoy now, I might get it wrong. I might fuck up completely, or you’ll fuck up, or we’ll both fuck up.” He begins to rub his thumb against Hugh’s pec – small circles, round and round, only lightly whispering against Hugh’s wet skin, and he can feel Hugh’s breathing go shallow. “How I feel to you might be different, but how I feel _about_ you will never change. So this is just something we need to figure out together – but only if you tell me what you need.”

There’s something fierce and hot in Hugh’s eyes – it’s a far cry from the stress that Paul had gotten used to seeing, and seeing it sends almost-forgotten signals straight to his dick.

“You,” Hugh says, his voice shallow, and he takes Paul’s hand and begins to move it down. “I just need you.”

Paul feels Hugh’s taught abs under his hand as he begins to move down, fingers meeting the coarse field of hair that begins just below his navel.

“You’re sure?” Paul whispers, his eyes darting down to Hugh’s mouth and back up to his eyes, and unwillingly, he licks his lips. He wants this – he wants this _so_ badly, he wants to make Hugh feel good, but he won’t do it if Hugh’s not sure.

In response, Hugh surges in and traps Paul in a filthy open-mouthed kiss. Paul closes his eyes and leans fully into it, biting at Hugh’s lips, tugging, relishing the prickly drag of Hugh’s moustache against his skin. His hand moves down, continuing its journey, and finds Hugh’s dick, already half-hard beneath the surface of the water. He slowly runs his fingers along the length, relishing the smooth glide of silky wet skin, and Hugh’s breath stutters for a moment, releasing air in a sharp exhalation against Paul’s lips.

He pulls back for a moment, pressing his forehead against Hugh’s. “All good?” He murmurs softly.

“If you keep asking me that, Paul, I swear to _god_ – “ Hugh’s muttered oath falters as Paul wraps his hand gently around Hugh and begins to pull slowly towards the tip. He doesn’t want to overwhelm Hugh, but the whimper in his partner’s voice is activating all kinds of desires that he had nearly forgotten.

Slowly, he moves his hand up and down Hugh’s dick, working him up gently, feeling him harden beneath his grip. His other hand leaves Hugh’s hip and eases down towards his lower back, and begins to trace circles in the skin there with his fingertips, his touch grazing gently over the cleft of his ass.

Hugh’s head tilts back as he twitches his hips, ever-so-slightly thrusting up into Paul’s grip with a muttered _fuck._ The smooth expanse of Hugh’s neck reveals itself to Paul, and right there, he can see Hugh’s pulse beating in his jugular beneath that chiselled jaw, and the opportunity is too good. He swoops in and presses his mouth against the point, kissing and sucking, feeling Hugh’s rapid heartrate beneath his tongue. His skin is salty from the minerals in the water, but beneath it, Paul can taste Hugh – can taste that familiar tang of sweat and skin and a scent unique to the man beneath his hands.

He keeps working his hand along Hugh’s dick, increasing his speed in time with Hugh’s panted exclamations of _yes_ and _more._ He’s now rock hard beneath the water, pink and brown and beautiful. He pulls away from Hugh’s neck with a smacking sound, relishing the mark that he’s left there, and is thrilled to see the gorgeous sight of Hugh being completely undone.

Hugh’s eyes are half lidded and fluttering, his lips and teeth parted, breath coming fast and shallow as the sensation seems to overcome him. The corners of his lips are upturned in a small, pleasured smile, and all Paul can feel is joy.

He never thought he’d be able to see this again. Never thought he’d ever be able to see Hugh like this, panting and writhing, his head tilted back in pleasure from the simple power of Paul’s hands. He stops for a moment and just stares, completely and totally awestruck, and feeling so very grateful that this miracle has happened for them.

Hugh moves forward, and locks his eyes with Paul. “Is everything alright?” Hugh asks, and beneath the exertion and arousal, there’s an undercurrent of concern.

Paul nods, suddenly struck for words. He knows why Hugh’s worried – Paul had never been one for moments of introspection in such an intimate setting. He pushes up, and crashes his lips to Hugh’s in a kiss that’s more desperation than desire. All he wants is to be as close to Hugh as possible, to draw out more smiles and joy, and to watch him come apart beneath his hands and mouth.

Hugh responds to the kiss fully, turning around where he sits on the ledge so that he can wrap his arms around Paul’s neck, pushing their bare chests together so firmly that Paul can feel Hugh’s heartbeat.

“Up,” Paul whispers, and he puts his hands under Hugh’s thighs, lifting ever so slightly. “Sit up on the side, Hugh.”

Hugh seems to get the hint, and rushes to move, standing quickly on the ledge before sitting on the side of the pool, feet planted firmly on the ledge beneath the surface of the water, his dick fully hard and completely exposed to the balmy, humid air around them.

Paul nudges Hugh’s knees apart, and kneels between them on the ledge, putting himself level with Hugh’s dick. He runs his hands up Hugh’s calves, over his knees, and scratches his fingertips over the tops of Hugh’s muscled thighs, delighting in the way that Hugh shivers at the contact. His hands dance ever closer to Hugh’s groin, before bypassing his dick entirely to palm over his abs, waist and hipbones.

“Paul,” Hugh says, and he sounds desperate. One of Hugh’s hands comes up and curves around the back of Paul’s head, curling his fingers in the short hair there, and pulls Paul’s head forward; not forcefully, but lightly – a suggestion and a plea all in one movement. “ _Please.”_

Paul smirks, the sound of Hugh’s desperation going straight to his dick. One of his hands stills on Hugh’s waist, and the other wraps around the base of Hugh’s cock, holding it steady as he levers himself up on his knees to move forward and lick the underside from base to head, before wrapping his lips around Hugh and beginning to suck.

The reaction from Hugh is immediate – he moans, the sound echoing around the empty pool room, and for a moment, all Paul can hear is that – the sound bouncing back, the gentle burbling of running water, and the sounds of Paul moving up and down on Hugh, pulling off and whispering gentle encouragements and praise for Hugh – an endless symphony of just them, echoing around the space, filling every one of Paul’s senses with reminders of the fact that this was _real_ – that Hugh had returned to him and was there to stay.

Hugh’s hands curl into his hair, scratching into Paul’s scalp and holding on hard, pulling almost to the point of pain. “Paul,” he gasps, his voice hitching, biting his lower lip. The pressure and sting almost makes Paul back off, desperate to touch himself, to pull off his trousers and bring himself down onto Hugh’s cock, but this moment is about Hugh. This moment is about making Hugh feel good, about making Hugh feel happy and present and alive. Paul knows that after the rockiness of the last few weeks, they both need this, to be able to feel close, but more than anything, Hugh needs this.

“Paul, I’m going to – I’m going to come… we can’t… not in the pool,” Hugh gasps out, and begins to half-heartedly push at Paul’s shoulders, trying to push him away.

Paul shakes his head, and doubles down, sucking and licking, bringing his hands over to wrap them around the base and balls, rubbing and twisting, brushing his fingertips along the veins.

Hugh’s grip tightens, and there’s a cry as he arches back, eyes closed in rapture as he turns his head towards the ceiling. Warmth blooms in Paul’s mouth and he tastes Hugh, salt and sweet and bitter and so, so familiar. He’s never felt so close to Hugh, so completely encompassed by everything that he is. Eventually, Hugh’s eyes open, and he looks back down to Paul, pupils blown wide, sweaty and panting. Paul pulls off with an obscene sound that echoes around the tiled room, and while still maintaining eye contact, swallows.

“Jesus, Paul,” Hugh says, and he looks wrecked, almost like he’s ready to go again. “Fuck.”

Paul winks, smirking. “Good?”

“ _Fuck._ ”

Paul pulls himself up to sit next to Hugh on the ledge, takes Hugh’s chin in his hand and pulls him into a light, closed-mouthed kiss. “I missed you. I missed you _so_ much. When you… when you died, it felt like a part of me died with you. I think I needed this almost as much as you did.”

“You haven’t even gotten off yet, Paul.” Hugh begins to reach for the waistband of Paul’s sodden trousers. “Do you want me to…?”

Paul shakes his head and takes Hugh’s reaching hand. “Let’s go back to our room. I think we’ve caused enough of a biohazard in here tonight, ok?” He stands, pulling Hugh up with him. Hugh smiles softly, but reaches out for Paul’s dick anyway, giving it a quick stroke through the sodden fabric before beginning to lead Paul away to where his clothes are resting.

“Ok. Ok, yeah, sounds good.” Hugh smiles, looking more relaxed and confident than Paul's seen him since before everything happened.

“Besides, I don’t want to come until I can ride you into a second orgasm.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> While I was in Germany, I had the opportunity to go to some mineral baths with some friends from my course, but the plan fell on the day when Saints of Imperfecion was airing, and for a second, I hesitated between going vs running back to my room to watch the episode immediately. My dear friend Aphelyon so rightfully told me to not be a dummy and go to the mineral baths, because when would I ever get that experience again. And then he told me "you can use it as inspiration to write porn lol" because he's terrible. So this is for Laf: a terrible enabler.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed this! And I hope to high fuck that Paul and Hugh get some goddamn happiness in S3! Just talk! You're adults!!!! Use your words!!!!! (I'm still mad.)
> 
> follow me on twitter @wolfchasing and wolfchasing.tumblr.com !!!


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